


Pride (Superbia)

by acheaptrickandacheesyoneline, Nightkeepyr, Weareallstoriesintheend



Series: Got Sinning on My Mind [3]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: AU, Bets, F/M, Goth Felicity, Inked up Oliver, NSFW, Piercings, Tattoos, body piercer! Felicity, tattoo artist! Oliver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 10:54:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14055417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acheaptrickandacheesyoneline/pseuds/acheaptrickandacheesyoneline, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightkeepyr/pseuds/Nightkeepyr, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weareallstoriesintheend/pseuds/Weareallstoriesintheend
Summary: Sex...Seven sins style...Pride...A half drunken bet. The terms were set.Now they're both sober, and neither one of them is backing down.





	Pride (Superbia)

**Author's Note:**

> Part three by [Nightkeepyr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightkeepyr/works%22)
> 
> I apologise for any mistakes, I have not re-read or checked this one for ages.

 

Pride ( _Superbia)_

 

_“It was pride that changed angels into devils; it is humility that makes men as angels.” ~ Saint Augustine_

  


\--->

 

“You backing out?”

 

Oh, God, this was a terrible  idea. A terrible fucking idea.

 

The smirk lifting up the corners of his mouth was a damn perfect example of just how not good this was. Deep down, she’d known. Of course she had, the moment the words had formed on his lips. But her stupid, pride , and maybe a little stubbornness thrown in for good measure, had her agreeing to his terms before her usually _intelligent_ brain could veto the hell out of it.

 

The snap of latex against his wrist echoed in her ears, had her heart thudding  like a snare drum, in her chest, her throat.

 

Nerves. More nerves...mixed with something she didn't want to admit to herself, let alone him, flooded her veins as he moved closer.

 

She could feel the apprehensive sweat matting the hair at the back of her neck, trickling down, but damn if she was going to show him just how anxious she was.

 

Thank God it was just the two of them in here, after closing.

 

“Felicity,” His voice rumbled, half amusement, half disappointment, “You backing out?” He asked again.

 

She took a deep, steadying breath,  and tilted her head back, meeting his unwavering gaze.

 

The blue of his irises darkened slightly at the eye contact, somehow making his eyelashes seem even longer.

 

Jesus. He was beautiful. Even in her current state, she wasn't blind to it. Or to the fact that she affected him too.

 

She watched as his stare dropped to her mouth. She dragged her tongue across her bottom lip slowly; teasing the cool metal hoop in the middle, and the burst of feminine satisfaction as his breath caught and his own lips parted instinctively, made her feel like she still had a shot of getting through this with a win.

 

She shifted her weight,  and he took another step closer and leaned towards her. She could see his gloved fingers twitching next to his thigh, out the corner of her eye. His head tilted to one side, and his smirk turned sly, downright mischievous, and Felicity braced herself for whatever he had planned.

 

He placed his hand on the table beside her, his bare forearm rested next to her hip, caging her in.

 

Before she could stop herself, her gaze dropped from his face, down to the black Henley stretched across his broad chest and biceps.

 

“Simple yes or no, Felicity…” He said, a dangerous burr sliding through the words,  sending a shiver down her spine.

 

She tensed her body, maybe a second too late, hoping like hell he'd missed the reaction. Shit, it wasn't fair the way he could do that, the way he made her want to give in without a fight.

 

His familiar, clean scent, filled her senses as he leaned in further, closing the small distance between their faces. The tip of his nose pressed against her cheek, and his scruff scraped her deliciously, as he moved up towards her ear.

 

His warm breath ghosting over her skin, through her hair,  had her locking her muscles, willing her body to ignore the slow, weightless somersaults in her belly.

 

His lips suddenly brushed her earlobe, and his teeth tugged on the first of her piercings there, and Felicity’s eyes shut, and lungs froze, in response. She could feel his smile widening slightly as he dragged his mouth down her neck.  Heat swooped through every part of her, tingles raced over her scalp as his tongue flicked against her throat.

 

“Oliver.” She whispered, wanting to curl into him.

 

“That's not an answer.” He murmured, almost absently, as though licking her neck was a usual part of their day to day.

God, if this was how he treated all his clients, no freaking wonder he was booked solid, months in advance. He definitely gave new meaning to ‘a personal touch’.

 

What was the question again?

 

She took another deep breath,  she had to keep it together. This...what he was doing right now, wasn’t even part of the deal. And he was already unravelling her.

 

He supported his left hand on the other side of her as his head came up, his eyes searching hers...for what felt like more than he had asked her, his mouth so close to hers. So damn close.

 

No part of him actually touched her at that moment, but she was all too aware or just how little it would take to change that.

 

“Tell me.” He spoke almost against her lips.

 

Felicity dug her short onyx nails into her palms to help herself hold onto her thoughts. She lost count of how many heartbeats passed before she was able to speak.

 

“No - I'm not backing out.” She answered eventually, struggling to keep her voice neutral.

 

His eyes closed as he breathed in her words with a low gratified hum.

 

He stayed leaning over her for another minute before pushing himself back.

 

“Then take it off.” He said gruffly, almost daringly, without looking away, barely blinking, as though he didn't want to miss a thing.

 

His penetrative stare was intimidating, and it kicked her nerves back up another few notches, but she reminded herself what was at stake.

 

She got to prove him wrong, and get to put her work on his body too. She wanted to mark him that way. Needed to. Needed to know no matter who he was with, who his dick got nice and friendly with, some part of her would be with him too. It was messed up, this borderline obsessive craving, but she didn't care. It would maybe help her get through this. She really hoped it did.

 

Neither of them broke the charged silence as she stood up, and tugged the hem of her black tank up her body. She clutched the material tightly to stem the tremors she could feel slowly building as she rose to the challenge stamped all over his face and body.

 

The air thickened as she pulled her hair free, and threw her shirt onto Sara’s empty station, adjacent to his, sitting there in her black silk bra and shredded skinny jeans.

 

The muscle in Oliver’s cheek twitched surreptitiously as she went all in, reached behind her, arched her back, and undid the clasp, baring her breasts to his gaze.

 

She bit her lip to hide her grin when she saw his eyes snap wide and lock onto the emerald circles on either side of her nipples. It was good to be back on more equal footing.

 

The bars had been her first ‘serious’ piercing - ears hadn’t counted for her back then, not till they started curving around the shells. And she was damn proud of what they represented: the first step in facing her fear of needles, and setting her on the path to her career in body modification. She didn’t think her breasts were too shabby either. And judging by the look in his eyes, he felt the same.

 

“Jesus...” Oliver groaned, not quite under his breath, adjusting the hat he preferred to wear backwards, then pushing the sleeves of his shirt further up his arms, revealing more of his gorgeous ink. “You -” He cleared his throat, “You want the tape?”

 

She could get used to the way his expression made her feel.

 

She shook her head, there was no reason to hide her body from him now. And she liked that she’d thrown him a bit. She liked it a lot.

 

Snippets of the vodka infused conversation that led to this half naked situation replayed in her mind while Oliver tore off his glove, checking the stencil, his brow furrowed.

 

_“But how do you know for sure...if you have nothing to compare it to?”_

 

_“I was tempted once.”_

 

_“When?”_

 

_“Back when I apprenticed with Sebastian.”_

 

_“He the one you considered?”_

 

_“Uh huh, but…”_

 

_“He wasn't the right person for you.”_

 

_“And you are?”_

 

_“I can show you what you're missing. How good it can get.”_

 

_“Good?”_

 

_“Fuck yeah...the buzz...that bite of pain that puts you right on the edge...or further...Mmm...bet I can push you straight over.”_

 

_“‘Can’ huh?”_

 

_“No fucking doubt.”_

 

_“And what if hypothetically, for whatever reason you're off, and you can't?”_

 

_“Then I’ll concede to the superior effects of your art, and you can put a couple of holes in me.”_

 

_“Yeah?”_

 

_“Yeah. Anywhere you want.”_

 

_“You’d give me your piercing cherry?”_

 

_He mumbled something she couldn’t quite catch, over the rim of his glass._

_“Oliver?”_

 

_“Seems like a fair trade...I get my hands on you...one cherry for another.”_

 

Neither of them were even a sip passed sober now. No, something else fuelled the actions the words had started.

 

She fidgeted as he grabbed a packaged razor, and rubbing alcohol, placing them in easy reach before re-washing and sterilising his hands, and putting on a fresh pair of gloves.

 

“Right.” He muttered to himself, rolling his chair over, motioning with the pack of alcohol wipes for her to face the mirror.

 

Oliver stilled as she turned towards him instead, putting him basically eye level with her nipple. She just had to move an inch and his mouth would be right there.

 

“I want it on the left.” She said, lifting her chin, deliberately coating the words with provocation. He looked up at her, his eyes sparking, nostrils flaring, and she wondered if he was going to point out the abrupt switch.

 

“Your body. Your choice, Felicity,” He said lowly, earnestly. “The design works either way.”

 

Damnit. His sincerity made her stomach drop, her heart flutter with feels, and she didn't need that right now.

 

She tried to tamp down the tight warmth spreading through her as he cleaned, shaved, and recleaned the site.

 

“You good?”

 

She nodded, and held her breath as he brought the template closer to her skin.

 

“Lift your arm up for me.”

 

She bent her arm and pointed her hand to her right shoulder, the way she’d seen him tell other people to over the last couple of years she’d worked with him.

 

“Relax, Felicity.” He instructed, and she tried to inhale and exhale like it was no biggie, but the slide of his palms through the latex, combined with the cool, wet paper shocked her system, sending her pulse into hyper drive. She was almost a hundred percent sure he could see her chest twitch, hear the blood racing in her veins as he peeled the stencil back.

 

Felicity watched as Oliver regarded the placement with a critical eye.

 

“Perfect.” He murmured as he ran his index finger over the purple-ish lines. “You wanna take a look before we get started?”

 

“I trust you...I want to be surprised.” Plus, she was a little afraid that once she saw the full expanse of the transfer, saw exactly how much of her skin was going to be marked, she’d be tempted to call it quits.

 

And she didn't want to.

 

She wanted this tattoo. Wanted his livelihood, his passion to make her bleed. Wanted to be a canvas for his shadows and colours.

 

Wanted it almost more than she wanted to mark him herself.

 

He blinked slowly, as though he were the one caught unaware, something lethal flashed across his irises before his expression shuttered, and he pushed the wheels of his chair, breaking out of his reverie.

 

“Get comfy.” He told her, and she lay down,  tucking the pillows he’d handed her earlier, under her side, waiting to see how he was gonna handle it, if he’d go the usual route and station himself behind her.

 

He tucked and folded a few sheets of paper towel into the waistband of her jeans, his fingers lingering beneath the tissue.

 

Her entire body tingled with awareness  as he sat down in front of her, his lips twitching secretively, as though he knew something she didn't.

 

The faint smile turned to palpable love and excitement for his work as he methodically prepared the inks, and placed the sterile needles into the machine. She never got tired of seeing this side of him, the fulfillment he found in every part of the process of turning his designs into living art. Everything seemed heightened, slightly amplified now though, now that she was about to get the hands on experience.

 

“You remember the terms, right?” He asked as he was finishing up the prep.

 

“I remember.”

 

“Say them.” He pressed calmly, staring at her through his lashes.

 

“Oliver.”

 

“Say it, so I know you know exactly what I wanna do to you, Felicity...so you know exactly what to get out of this...to get from me.” He said, the dark spark returning to his eyes and voice, stronger this time, full of promise.

 

Holy. Moses.

 

Felicity swallowed thickly, willing her brain, her mouth to function properly.

 

“Say it, so you know this here, right now, is different. So you know that buzz...it won't be accidental. I _want_ to make it good for you,   _want_ the pain to seep into every goddamn part of you, _want_ to get you high on it, hot, fucking slick, while I’m marking you...the first one to mark you...the only one.”

 

The room spun around her as his words sunk in. Oh, Jesus, what was air? He was fighting dirty but she she’d be full of shit if she said she didn't appreciate it.

 

“Are you still with me, Felicity...too much?” Oliver asked as his eyelids grew heavier.

 

“No...no,” _Oh, god,_ “I’m a-okay, good to go.” She said carefully, once she’d found her voice.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” She ran her fingers through the ends of her hair, twirling the dark strands around her finger, knowing full well he was flipping the script, and she was too close to the deep end. He hadn't even gotten started, and she could already feel herself throbbing, her pussy clenching around nothing, needing something. Not something. Him.

 

She dragged in a stilted breath, “If I - if you don't make me...come while inking me, then I get to do you...with a piercing of my choice…”

 

His gaze dropped to her nipples, searing a path down her neck, his eyebrow raised expectantly when she trailed off.

 

“...Wherever I want...free reign on your body.”

 

The sudden whir of the gun as he turned it on, didn't quite cover up Oliver’s drawn out hiss, and the combined sound played havoc with her skittering heart.

 

“Last chance.” He checked in with her, his irises gleaming with expectation as he lifted her arm, and rested it above her head.

 

“Not backing out.”  Felicity replied vehemently.

 

Oliver nodded as he hunched forward, breaking eye contact to focus on her ribs, pressing the tips of fingers just below the swell of her breast, where the top of the tattoo started.

 

“First minute, yeah.”

 

“First minute.” She acknowledged, trying to regulate her breathing. He always said the first minute, especially on the ribs, was the hardest, after that, it was _hurts so fucking good_. Time to see if he was just bullshitting her.

 

“Try not to flinch, okay.” He reminded her.

 

“I won’t,” She flicked her lip ring with the very tip of her tongue, “Not entirely new to this spiel, remember.”

 

His smirk reappeared, along with a flash of dimple.

 

“I can’t exactly forget, Felicity.” He said huskily as he brought the needle down against her skin.

 

It took a split second for the pain to register, and when it did, the sharp, hot sting licked her entire side so ferociously, it took her breath away.

 

Tears welled in the corners of her eyes, her muscles grit down as the vibrations rumbled through to her spine, setting her nerve endings on edge.

 

“Oh, my god. “ She groaned through clenched teeth, a little taken aback by the fresh wave of almost agonising intensity as he inked more of the outline. Then he moved lower, and the throbbing was suddenly swallowed by a shocking slice of pleasure, turning the intensity into something  that damn near melted her bones. Jesus, the burn was indescribable.

 

Heat sizzled all around her as Oliver’s forehead crinkled with concentration. It spread through her limbs, overwhelmed her, made her dizzy, the feeling so much stronger than she’d gotten used to with her own vice.

 

Felicity was no stranger to the draw of pain, or the unexpected reaction from some clients, the way the quick bite took them by surprise. She’d chased that high herself, many times. She'd heard more than a few aroused moans from people when she’d pierced them. She’d seen their expressions contorting in painful ecstasy, had gotten glimpses of that same look from various people in Oliver’s, and other artists chairs. Had seen how the prolonged submission to the needle had affected them.

 

But none of that had prepared her for being on the receiving end of _this_. Holy shit, she had no idea it would be quite so...devastatingly good. She felt like she was floating, then sinking into an unchartered level of bliss.

 

She bit the inside of her cheek to suppress a give away whimper.

 

“You holding up alright?” He asked, the words ghosting across goosebumps forming on her sensitised flesh.

 

She bit down harder to stifle her reaction.

 

“Felicity.”

 

She grumbled something unintelligible in response.

 

“Do you need a time out?”

 

“I’m okay.” She punched the words out quickly.

 

“Just okay huh?” He challenged, grazing the tip of one of the emerald balls in her nipple, as he shifted positions slightly. Shit, the move was so smooth, she couldn’t tell if he’d done it deliberately or not.

 

“Mmhmm.”

He pressed his lips together briefly and she was mesmerised by the way they momentarily paled, then flushed a deeper pink.

 

He grunted softly, worked in silence for a few moments, steadily leaning in closer, wreaking more havoc on her...everything.

 

Every now and then, he met her eyes for a few seconds, silently checking in, silently reading her, seeing things she didn't want him to see.

 

She wanted it to be over. She wanted him to take his time.

 

“God, the way your skin takes ink…fucking unreal.” He said reverently, making her stomach swoop with more butterflies, and she clamped her thighs together, forcefully stilling her hips from rolling.

 

The needle moved over a particularly  sensitive spot, and the whimper she’d held back earlier turned into a breathless mewl, as the ache between her legs built. Sweat broke out on her temples, her toes curled inside her studded boots.

 

Oliver breathed a low curse as he paused, looking down at her like he wanted to devour her.

 

“You can try to hide, but your pupils are _fucked_ , Felicity...your cheeks - Christ - I can feel your goddamn skin burning, and I fucking  know it has nothing to do with the pain...Still wanna tell me this isn't doing anything for you?”  


“Oliver.”  She hardly recognised her own voice.

 

“Fuck...fuck….you're killing me. Your face right now. Jesus.”

 

She could’ve sworn she felt the hand on her side trembling slightly, but just as she tried to focus on that, to gain some equilibrium, he clenched it into a fist, then shook his head, a more determined mask falling into place.

 

When he punctured her skin again, she couldn’t even try to hold back a strained moan, the sensation pulling her deeper into pain tinged heaven.

 

She felt foggy, but focused. It was the strangest impression - to be dazed, but so conscious of his every movement, of the weight of his palm, his fingertips, of the latex shifting against the sheen of sweat.

 

“That's it, the worst part is over,” Oliver told her as he leaned back, and turned the gun off,  “You handled that...like a fucking dream.”

 

He was looking at her like he wished the design was bigger, like he wished he could spend all night keeping her in that fugue. She wondered if he could tell she was wishing for the same thing.

 

He grabbed some more towel and poured the soap onto it, gently cleaning up the excess ink. Again,  she was hyper aware of the material brushing the raised markings.

 

“How does it feel?”

 

_Fucking incredible._

 

“Good...it feels good.”

 

Damnit, that came out way more raspy than she intended.

 

His lips quirked as he slid his fingers up the belt loop on her hip, pulling at it lightly before trailing down onto the bare expanse of her lower back. He slowly circled the notches of her spine, till he got to the middle, then pressed down, stretching the skin on her ribs, exacerbating the subsiding burn.

 

Oh, dear god, the bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

 

“F- fuck.”

 

“Good enough to carry on...or…”

 

“Don’tstop.” She said hurriedly, the cringed internally at her outward eagerness, “Don’t...stop.” She repeated slowly.

 

He bent down, and nuzzled the hair off her shoulder, “You haven't come yet, haven't cried out cos you can't hold back anymore...but you're close...I can fucking smell you, Felicity...and I’m not planning on going anywhere till you do.”

 

Okay. How the hell was this really happening to her? This... _him_...it was all insane.

 

He stepped back casually, and ripped off his gloves, as if his words hadn’t  poured gasoline on the fire. But she could see the tension in his shoulders as he kept his back to her, took his time, while he did the wash - sterilise - re-glove routine, and switched the needles, so he could get started on the shading.

 

She was more prepared for the pain his time, but the dark rush still took her by surprise. There was a dull throb beneath the pinch of the shading, as he expertly marked her up, put his stamp on her body.

 

Oh, god, she was burning up. The submerging ache in her entire body just kept building and building. Every breath released from her lungs was somewhere between a pant and moan. The contrasts between his hand and the needle, the pleasure and the pain, fizzled through her blood, shot through her clit, and she pressed her fingernails into her scalp frantically, tried to hone in on something else.

 

It only made it worse. The little darting twinges added to the blaze scalding her, made her more aware of the restless sound of both of their breathing; of his addictive rain and metal scent amplifying, seeping into her pores.

 

She lost sense of time as he worked her teeth-grittingly closer and closer to an orgasm right there on his table.

 

“Christ, you're beautiful like this, all dazed, unfocused, but I know you're feeling _everything_ , everything I’m giving you right now...fuck, me, you have no idea what it's doing to me...knowing I'm the one giving you that high...getting you wet.” He said, his voice low, so low, and gravelly.

 

 _“_ Oliver - I- ” She swallowed down the panicked note edging into her throat. Squeezed her eyes shut again and again.

 

“Say it. Tell me what you need...goddamn.” He choked out, his plea strained as he lifted the needle for the last time.

 

Felicity could barely think, breathe. Her nipples were tight, the bars going through them felt too small, too big, not enough. Nothing was enough. Not his other hand, now back below her breast. Not her throbbing clit, her pussy clenching in anticipation. She needed more. Needed him.

 

But she struggled to speak, struggled to find the words to let go as he slowly cleaned her up, waiting on silent edge.

Seeing the finished work before he bandaged, and taped it, was what pushed her over.

 

She sat up, staring, completely blown away by every crisp line and tendril of smoke so lifelike on her skin. Jesus, it was more than art, more than feeling, more than his heart in every stroke. It was beyond description.

 

He rolled the chair around, swallowing audibly as he applied a thin layer of ointment, and covered it up.

 

“Felicity.”

 

Her breath caught, she heard it all from her name on his tongue. His sense of accomplishment. His nerves. His want.

 

“Oh my god, Oliver.” She sobbed.

“Please...please.”

His jaw clenched, and he slid his hands half under her thighs, and pulled her off the table and onto his lap, gently. But she could feel the storm thrumming in the coiled muscles beneath her, against her, as she clutched his shoulders.

 

For a second, they just breathed, stared at each other as though they were trying to process the potency, the heat between them.

 

His hand stilled on her lower back, and she startled slightly as a frustrated sound grumbled through him. He let go of her just long enough to rip off his gloves. His eyelashes fluttered, he grunted low as his palm settled back, and her entire body vibrated at the skin on skin.

 

He trailed the fingertips of his other hand along her collarbone as he spread his legs wider, and slid her up and closer, right on top of the rigid outline of his cock.

 

A hardly there sigh escaped her lips, as she clenched her thighs around his hips. So soft, but Jesus, it seemed to echo around the studio to her.

 

“You ever think of us...before this, before tonight...you ever wonder what it would be like, what we would be like...am I the only one?” He asked, his voice, thick, uneven, vulnerable.

 

There was no way she could lie to him right then, pretend he wasn’t slowly killing her.

 

“No.” She moaned softly. “No, you're not.”

 

His grip on her tightened fractionally as an intent light gleamed in his eyes. He leaned forward, exhaling against the vein pulsing in her neck.

 

“It’s all I can think about...two fucking years...longer...I’ve wanted your scent on my clothes, my skin, my sheets.”

 

“Ohm’g - ” She mumbled, but Oliver cut her off, covering her lips with his, angling her head before slowly sucking her lip ring into his mouth, then held it between his teeth.

 

His breath fanning her upper lip, the pull of the hoop on the inside, was like a conduit directed to her aching clit, and she loved that he was confident enough to go straight for the piercing. A few guys she’d hooked up with since she got it had hesitated, or avoided it all together.

 

“Oliver.”

 

He parted his mouth and slid his tongue over the half circle. White hot  want surge in her belly, butterflies swarmed up to her chest, making her even more light headed. She scraped her fingernails along his shoulders, up the back of his neck, pulling him closer, finally giving in to her body, and rocking her hips as he stroked his way into her mouth, stripping away any memory of the guys before with every flick and curl of his tongue.

 

“God, I knew it would be like this,” Oliver whispered huskily as he nipped the metal ring again, before dragging his parted lips along her jaw, his scruff rasping her overheated skin as he worked his way down her throat, licked the salt out the hollow, lapping at her slowly, teasingly, “Fuck, Felicity.”

 

Her back arched, giving him more access, and he took advantage of it by sucking a path across her collarbone, running, and pressing his teeth down slightly, enough for her to feel that awareness,  enough for her to be overly conscious of the sway of her breasts, and his mouth’s proximity.

 

“Your mouth,” She whimpered,

“Oliver -”

 

“You need more?”

 

“God, yes.”

 

He wrapped his arm around her back, careful not to touch the bandaging, and stood up suddenly, and Felicity’s legs tightened around him automatically as he walked backwards and pushed her up against the mirror.

 

She hissed out a breath as the shocking coolness hit her back,  making her shiver. But then Oliver’s heat blanketed her, permeated the tiny bit of space between them.

 

His hands moved to her hips, and he pulled her impossibly closer, grinding her over his denim covered hard-on,  torturously slowly, rubbing against her, adding mind numbing friction as he continued kissing and biting down between her breasts.

 

Felicity threw her head back against the glass, barely able to keep her eyes open, murmuring incoherently as she rode him shamelessly.

 

He gripped her ass, and rocked into her, rough and hard, then it slowed it down, alternating between rhythms, mimicking fuck hot thrusts, surging onto her with sexy, low groans against her skin.

 

She slid her fingers under the peak of his hat, and pulled it off his head, let it fall to the floor before running them through the short, dishevelled strands of his hair.

 

Oliver took a half a step back,  without loosening his grip, causing her torso to lengthen, stretching her freshly inked ribs slightly, pushing her breasts closer to his lips.

 

He held her there for a second, not moving, panting against the curve of her breast, while she burned deliciously. Her throat gurgled as her pulse pounded in her neck, her ears. Good lord, it felt good.

 

Oliver eased his lips away from her, and she shifted, her body searching for him, wanting him back urgently.

 

“What are you doing to me?” She groaned.

 

He looked up at her, connecting their gazes. His chest was seesawing, eyes nearly black, showing her he wasn’t perfectly in control either, that this, _them_ , was pulling him under too, and he wasn't afraid to drown in it.

 

“I’m doing whatever you let me do to you...whatever you're giving me, I'm fucking taking, Felicity.”

 

“Oh, Jesus, please.” She croaked.

 

She caught a hint of _that_ smirk before he dipped his head, bent over her and closed his mouth over her nipple.

 

Instant...wet...heat.

 

She could feel his tongue trace first one stud, then the other before he pulled her in deeper, hollowing out his cheeks as he gave her pass the hell out suction.

 

“Oh, god, Oliver.” She cried out, clutching the back of his head as he moved to the other, twisting against him, pushing herself into him, as bone deep pleasure sizzled through her.

 

Back and forth, he swirled his tongue. Sucked, licked, nipped. Over and over, till he had her gasping,  clawing at his neck, his chest, anywhere she could reach.

 

She could fucking feel the blood swelling her nipples, thrumming between her legs, and it was almost too much, too damn much.

 

“You taste so goddamn good. These…” He tapped the tip of his tongue against one piercing, “...are so fucking hot.”

 

She smiled a little secretively, looking forward to his reaction to the other work she had hidden beneath her clothes.

 

Her smile disappeared as he pushed forward, and pressed her back fully against the mirror, slid her up a couple of inches before his mouth returned to hers.

 

Deeper, slower, demanding, pulling everything from her, feeding the crazy hunger, the need, kissing her like he couldn't get enough.

 

Oliver set her back down again suddenly, and spun her round to face their reflection. He planted his feet between hers and raised her arms above her head; just enough to feel that sting, and covered her hands with one of his, pressing them down so that her back arched a little, grazing her ass against his cock.

 

His gaze scanned her face in the images looking back at them, taking in the sweat damp tendrils of her hair, rosy skin, her feverish eyes, her kiss swollen lips.

 

He leaned in closer,  so that his scruff pressed against her neck.

 

“Look at you. “ His voice was like gravel, he blinked slowly, staring at her like he couldn't quite believe his luck.

 

It was heady, addictive, being wanted by him.

 

His free hand slipped beneath the dark tresses at her nape, his fingers pressed down, inching towards the spot between her shoulder blades. More heat sank into her as she trembled in response to his touch.

 

“Your back has been driving me fucking crazy...your everything...every day, _every day_ , Felicity.”

 

His digits trailed down lower, retracing her spine, without the gloves this time. He kept his eyes on hers, tilted his head and brushed his lips under her ear, down her neck, imprinting her, making her clit swell and throb even more.

 

“Oliver.” It came out high and breathy, and he groaned over her racing pulse.

 

She tried to pull free, to turn, but he held her tight as he reached the top of her jeans.

 

He spread his palm wide, moved round to her front, sliding across her stomach, pressing his solid weight below her navel.

 

He inched in closer, crowded her till the thick, hard length of him settled into the low curve above her ass.

 

It wasn't enough.

 

“Oh...god...I need…” She couldn’t talk without panting.

 

“Tell me what you need,” He said again, “I wanna hear it, I wanna give it to you...but you gotta tell me, tell me how far you wanna take this, before I lose my fucking mind here.”

 

That floating sensation intensified with each one of his words.

 

“Jesus, Oliver...I'm dying here.” He already had her so fucking worked up.

 

“Tell me.” He whispered raggedly, lowering his knees a bit, and rocking into her, “I need you to.”

 

“It hurts...good...but it hurts, and I need…”

 

“Yeah?” There was a slight teasing lilt in the question, even though he looked pained.

 

“I just need you, Oliver.”

 

“Felicity.” He half chided, and she looked at him, really looked at him through the haze. He needed more too, he really needed the words.

 

“I _want_ you. Your mouth, your hands, Your dick. Just you.”

 

He sucked in a breath, and didn't draw it out any longer, thank god. He flicked her fly open, one handedly, and dragged her zipper down.  The slow rasp of the metal teeth reverberated through her pelvis, and she rolled against him, urging him move faster.

 

He reluctantly released her hands, and she sagged against him as he manoeuvred her jeans and underwear down her lower thighs, leaving them there, limiting her range of movement, still keeping her at his mercy.

 

Even if she hadn’t been looking right at him via the glass, watching, waiting,  she would’ve been able to tell the exact moment Oliver caught sight of her other piercing.

 

He jolted, his fingertips dug into her thighs, before he froze behind her.  Every part of him tense and still as he lasered in on the crystals twinkling on the hood of her pussy, and the delicate jewellery below.

 

He looked like he was trying to peel his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

 

“Christ...almighty....your clit’s pierced too?”

 

“Technically, it's just resting there.” She teased huskily, loving the way his eyes were still bugging. She would’ve loved to have an actual clit piercing, but her girl parts weren't quite suitable for that option. Oliver clearly didn't give a fuck about that.

 

“Just...just...goddamn. You really are trying to kill me...I...have no words...no fucking words.” He choked out, still staring.

 

Felicity slid her fingers down his muscled forearm, over the set of queens playing cards with the letters R, M, O, and T beneath the suits, and clasped them around his wrist as he absently traced circles on her hips with his thumbs. Her head fell back against his shoulder as his callouses scorched invisible designs on her skin.

 

Oliver took a deep, shuddering breath, as though he were shaking off the stupor, and dipped his right hand between her legs.

 

He banded his other arm around her, holding her close as he cupped her breast and looped those same maddening shapes next to her nipple at the same he spread his index and middle fingers, and rubbed down either side of the stud above her pink, almost over stimulated sex, pressing down, pulling her open as he stroked, turning her clit to a pulsing knot of need.

 

Her thighs trembled, her knees weakened,  as he flicked both piercings simultaneously. He was the only thing keeping her from melting into a mindless puddle on the studio floor.

 

“Oliver.”

 

He twisted his digits, glided his knuckles along her swollen pussy lips, coating them with her arousal. Her hips canted, following his touch, needing him inside of her. She whimpered, half in disappointment as he kept up the pace, refusing to move lower.

 

“Jesus.” Oliver growled hungrily as he slid one fingertip underneath the teardrop between her thighs, shooting sparks down her already shaky legs, pulling a breathy, strangled kinda sigh slash moan hybrid from her.

 

“Fuck. I need to get you in a bed, spread you out. Take all night...find all the ways to get you to make that sound.

 

“Oh my god.”

 

“This is...something else, Felicity. I wanna suck on it, tug it with my teeth to see if it’ll make your clit throb against my tongue.”

 

A surge of want shot up the base of her spine. Damn, his filthy mouth made her head disconnect in the hottest of ways. She couldn’t focus enough to speak. Could only beg wordlessly as he parted their legs a little wider and continued caressing.

 

 _Finally_ one thick, confident  finger dipped inside. His chest pressed against her shoulders as he pushed in deeper, and she almost blacked out as he scraped his teeth back up her neck, and added another,  moving in and out of her with delirious, sizzling friction.

 

Oliver's fingers tightened, swivelled as she struggled for air, working her up and dialling the pressure back, over and over till she couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, could only feel. Feel him. Just him.

 

He raked his blunt fingernails across her nipple, just as he stretched her pussy with a third digit, sinking in as deep as the angle allowed him to. She wasn't going to last. She felt like she was about to shatter, splinter into a thousand pieces.

 

“Oliver...” She groaned his name as she bucked against him, and tried to close her eyes, but he rolled her nipple, tugged a little harder, forcing them back open.

 

“Don’t go anywhere. I wanna see you, I want you to see yourself when you come.” He murmured, his hooded gaze unflinching, as his hand drove her higher.

 

He rotated his wrist suddenly, triggering a lightning bolt through her core, that singed from her scalp to her toes, as she lost control of her body.

 

Her muscles clenched, released, hard enough for her to feel in her ribs, slightly aggravating her new tattoo in wipe all thought, devastatingly, erotic pain - tinged waves.

 

“Oh, fuck...” She panted, her uneven breaths fogging up the glass.

 

“Christ, hold on. ..I got you.” Oliver’s  voice was hot, dark in her ear, as it ripped through her.

 

Her hand slipped off his arm and she almost fell forward, but he held her, was her strength as uncontrollable shivers racked her, tearing broken cries from her throat.

 

God, this was a new level of release. One she doubted she’d recover from. She'd carry it with her long after the tremors subsided. Carry him.

 

She completely lost sense of the seconds, minutes it took for her to come back down from cloud _way_ beyond nine. Oliver slowly eased his fingers from her,  and gently turned her around to face him, wrapping his left arm around her back.

 

His gorgeous mouth was quirked up in that sinful smirk that had started this all in the first place, but his eyes watched her with concern...and a whole lot more.

 

“You okay?” He leaned his forehead against hers.

 

“Yeah...yeah,” She sighed, “God.”

 

The expression on his face deepened as held her tighter.

“Is it too soon to say ‘I told you so’?” He whispered wickedly.

 

She chuckled sleepily but victoriously, “Not so fast.” She taunted, reaching down and palming his heavy cock.

 

His eyebrow rose quizzically, as he twitched beneath her hand.

 

“See...technically, I didn’t come _while_ you were working on me…” She couldn’t help gloating, as she started undoing his belt with unsteady hands, more than ready to get him naked, to wrap her hands around him, to get a taste, and more, “...So, I guess at some point, all I need to know from you, Mr Queen is...Prince Albert...or Apadravya?”

 

THE END

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hope this one was okay? Thanks for reading :)


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